dying happy
by kariagony
Summary: I wrote this for my lit assignment, basically my take on what happened to Sarah Osborne. I like reviews!


_Is this how my end will come? Trapped in this cell. My own children against me, too ill to defend myself. I wonder if it was supposed to be like this. Was I ever going to be happy? Does everyone hate me? Did they ever like me? Is this what You want? Well right now I do not care where I go. Any place is better than here at this moment._

The knocks are loud against the door. I wonder if the people are finally mad that I have not shown up to a meeting for a while. Most of the people get angered if you mutter an individual thought without the consent of god, so not going to a meeting means I have sinned gravely. But who would want to go when they are as ill as me at the moment? My feverish body would not last in there. Knock knock knock! Hot bodies surrounding me. Knock knock knock! I would most likely die in there. Knock knock knock!

"Coming!" rushing to the door the world starts to spin faster than usual. My heart is beating faster the closer I get to the door. Maybe fate is telling me not to open it. My hand, though, moves on its own accord. Slowly the bright light peaks through the cracked door and I feel as the once fast spinning world is now moving too slow, just to add to my fear and helped the anxious feeling move from my heart to every tiny fiber of my being. After the door is fully opened, it goes back to normal. "Yes?" I ask the two men in front of me.

"Miss Osborne you are to come with us." The taller of the two says.

"I cannot at the moment, I am not feeling well. Perhaps some other day when I am not so ill." As I make to close the door. They did not like this answer. The rounder gentleman forces it open and grabs my arms.

They dragged me as if I was just a rag doll being carried by a small child. As if they were comparing me to a lifeless object. One without the same feelings as they. Them being men it is understandable for them to act as such. Yet that did not excuse for all of the rough treatment.

We passed the meeting house. The small white building, my only savior at the moment, was leaving my range of sight. Why have they yet to take me there? I thought that was where we were going.

"Where are you taking me?"

They did not answer for awhile. They let their feet drag in the dirt and send a dust up. Finally a gruff voice answered, "Prison."

"For missing a few meetings? That does not seem just!" prison?! How dare they take me there just for not going to meetings. I tried to get away.

"No for the use of witchcraft and communicating with the devil." That made me stop in my place. I was, for sure, not going with them.

They took me flailing and squirming. I made the dumb mistake of trying to run. But I never did such a thing and they were not going to take me willingly! How dare they think I did! Only a fool would be taken to prison willingly!

The rusty cell door closed and was locked. The taller one turned to me and said, "Your trial will start in an hour," then turned to leave. My cell was cold and lonely much like how I was feeling at the moment. I hope You are enjoying this up there. Hopefully they believe that I did not do anything, and maybe they will go easy on me.

"What evil spirits have you familiarity with?" John Hathorne asked me, well more like yelled at me. Looking around the room I could see my husband and children. And the other girls, two of them.

In a calm even voice I answer, "I have familiarity with none." He has been asking me the same things over and over again. Why does he need to ask me this? I already told them I have not done witchcraft.

His eyes are weird to me. "Have you made no contract with the Devil?"

_Sigh_, "No, I never saw the Devil in my life." What could it be?

"Why do you hurt these children?" he said motioning to my eldest children. They were all against their own mother. I question who should be on trial right now.

"I do not hurt them." I finally say.

"Who do you employ, then, to hurt them?" there is almost a glint in his eyes. Hoping to catch me in a lie I have not even said.

"I employ nobody." These questions are all the same. I do not like that. Why is it the same? Is it some ruse to get something out of me? Well there is nothing for me to hide. I look down at my lap, my hands are shaking. Is it anger or frustration? Probably just my illness.

"What familiarity have you with Sarah Good?" my head snaps up. I try to keep my voice steady and calm. They told me she was the one who accused me. Right now I do not care for that girl.

"None, I have not seen her these two years." The crinkle in his brow tells me he is unsatisfied with this answer. I shoot her a look, but she will not look my way.

"Where did you see her then?" his hands do a funny dance when he talks. Maybe he hopes it makes him seem more, what's the word?

"One day, agoing to town." Intimidating, he is trying to scare me. It will not work. But my heart says otherwise.

His voice seemed to dim as the banging in my chest got louder. "What communications had you with her?"

"I had none, only 'How do you do' or so. I do not know her by name." I can tell that he did not believe that answer.

"What did you call her then?" the glint grew to a fire in his eyes. Maybe it was Hell itself trying to take me with it, just waiting and growing for me to say something it can use. So it can take me to burn.

In a whisper I say, "I called her Sarah."

The people in the meeting started to murmur. I strained to hear. I made out a few; apparently I had been heard saying I would never believe that lying spirit. Funny how I do not remember ever saying that. Well until today.

Hathorne turned to them and listened, then turned back and asked, "What lying spirit is this? Hath the devil ever deceived you, and been false to you?" again with this. I looked down at my now rumpled, wrinkled skirts, black as the souls of these people.

"As I said I do not know the devil. I never did see him-"

"Why did you yield thus far to the devil as never to go to a meeting since?"

"Alas! I have been sick, and not able to go!"

"But your husband and the others said you have not been to a meeting three years and two months." Heat rose to my face, but not from the fever. Why would my husband say such a thing? He loves me so there is no way he would betray me like that. Maybe he was forced. Maybe they tortured him. He looks fine though. Why is he not doing anything to stop them? He should be defending me not betraying me like this!

"May we have Tituba?" I slowly made my way to the chair next to Sarah Good. She did not look at me, not for a second. She should have faced me first before accusing me. The wench.

"Tituba, did you ever see the devil?"

With a curve of her lip she says, "The Devil came to me, and bid me serve him."

"Who have you seen?"

Looking at Good and I, she answers, "Four women sometimes hurt the children." I turn to look her, Sarah. Her eyes are wide, her fingers clench on the fabric of her dress. My face most likely mirrored hers in surprise.

"Who were they?" he is actually listening to this load of rubbish.

"Goody Osborne and Sarah Good, and I do not know who the others were. Sarah Good and Osborne would have me hurt the children, but I would not." She said it with a straight face. Why does everyone believe I would do this?

"Have you seen it with your eyes, their witch craft?" That is my freedom. Who can see witchcraft one has not even done?

"Yes, I have seen Osborne flying on her broom!" gasps were heard in every corner. Hothorne turned to me with a grin.

"How could you see something never done? I am more likely to be bewitched then a witch. Besides, evil does take many shapes. Who is to say that she saw me, but it was not even me to begin with." His grin left as quickly as it came. Angrily he went to the others and discussed what would happen to us.

"Good and Tituba will be sent back to their cell and await execution along with Osborne who will wait for a full trial." We were attached with rope, and then taken back to our cell. The rusted door, creaking as it was slammed shut brought me back to reality. I could be killed soon. Perhaps not as soon as Good or Tituba, but still soon. Would they all be happy to rid of me?

The cell was silent. Something was dripping from a distance, but for the most part silent. Like a cemetery. Which is where I will end up.

"I never did it." A voice said to my right suddenly. Sarah Good.

"What, witchcraft?" I tried to not sound angry, this was Good and she was always kind, but who would not be angry after being accused.

"Well that too, but I never accused you of something so evil." Her voice loud but wobbly, as if she was just learning to speak. Her head was down, but I could see the tears fall to the skirts of her dress. "Please forgive me." Maybe she was not as bad as I thought. How did I believe that someone as nice as her would do that? A snort came from Tituba sounding like the hog she is.

"No amount of forgiveness will save you. We were all dead the moment we were born." All that was heard were the silent sobs coming from Sarah and Tituba's humming. Who hums when about to be executed? She sure is one mad person.

Wait, I feel funny suddenly, "I do not feel so good." For some reason my lungs wanted to escape. A tightness grew in my chest, and the fever returned, the coughs do not want to stop, "Goody Osborne are you alright?!" Sarah shrieked, her voice fading out. I feel like she is saying something else, but I could not understand. Why is the room getting so darker? Am I close to my end?

A loud clank woke me up. I felt that it was cold. My toes were to the point of falling off. The quietness of the cell worried me for a bit though. Where were Tituba and Sarah? Why could I not open my eyes, or move? Slowly I willed my eyes to open. White light filled my eyes before slowly going back to normal. Though still blurry, I noticed that they were not in my cell.

"Finally up I see." A deep voice said to the right of me. I had to use all that was in me to turn. My weak body protested, shivering the entire way around. My great effort, though, was rewarded.

"Where are they?" just those few words made my throat feel like I swallowed millions of needles. How long did I cough? How sick am I?

My shivers grew; "Executed" was all he said before he left. With a heavy intake of breath my coughing fits started again. Was this all my life will be until my execution? I will not die until I am proven innocent. And the world goes black again.

Hot, but bleary. Everything is red and spinning. I cannot seem to focus on anything. My body feels like pudding. A big glob of nothing. Like I lost all of my bones and just stayed this gooey substance. Everything is hazy. Like walking in fog too thick to see in front of you. The temperature rises and falls. Breathe, I need to breathe. I forgot how. Probably when I lost my bones, I left my ability to breathe as well. Then I do not remember anything, see anything, do anything but just lay there and sleep again.

"Wake up!" said a horrid voice. I have been here for days. In and out I go. As if one second I am here the next I am somewhere else.

"I want to sleep." My hoarse voice replied. I tried to go back to sleep but a sting on my face would not let me. He slapped me.

"Your next hearing will be in two weeks." Then he laughed, "Try not to die by then." And that is all I wanted to do at that moment was to die and I felt it coming too. I wish so much for God to just take me to wherever at this moment but he will not let me. He wants me to suffer.

Cruelly He decided to make me wait, and unable to sleep. My hearing not till the end of the week, yet my suffering grows worse. I feel as if my own private Hell has formed in my body. Slowly engulfing me until I am unable to move. Everything I do, every move I make hurts me. And the sleep I do get is a short and restless. All I do is think. All day and night. Does my illness come from the hate of the others? Do they all want me gone so much that they put me in this curse? The blackness took me again.

When I awake again I feel nothing. I cannot move my body. I cannot do anything. I feel horrible and I know it is over for me. Finally. Yet I am unsatisfied. I wanted them to look me in the eyes and tell me they were wrong. Wrong about Good and I. But sadly that will never happen.

Is this how my end will come? Trapped in this cell, my own children against me. Me too ill to defend myself. I wonder if it was supposed to be like this. Was I ever going to be happy? Does everyone hate me? Did they ever like me? Is this what You want? Well right now I do not care where I go. Any place is better than here at this moment.

I feel as if my body is slowly reaching that line where life meets death. At a moment like this death does not seem quick or painful or as bad as they seem to others. Even at the brink, when you know it is coming and you cannot do anything to stop it from happening you feel content that everything is over. You are okay with all the bad that has happened. As long as it is over.

Then the most amazing thing happened, right as I am almost there, at that line, I hear the most amazing thing ever. Three words that make me want to live just to thank the person who said them, to hug them and cry in their arms for saying them.

The whisper said, "I believe you." I am not sure who said it, why they did, if they felt sorry for me, or they just knew that someone like me would not do anything bad like the others think. But for that one second I feel at ease. The world does not hate me as much as I assumed it did. Maybe all of this was done so I would not suffer in this dirty place we call life.

I hang on for a bit. It hurts me to. But I have to see who it was. All I see is a shadowy figure walking down the hall back to the world of the living. It was not of a person I know, or knew. Yet as I saw them walk away, I knew all about them.

That one person was my light. That person gave me the peace I had wanted. They gave me a reason to want to live even after all this time. They brought me back to how I was. Not what they changed me to. Not this evil witch of a person. That is not who I am.

Then I die. Smile on my face. In someone's eyes I am not guilty. I thought that the trial with everyone in the room saying I was not guilty would make me the happiest but on the contrary. Just this unknown person turned my vision of Hell into one of Heaven.


End file.
